A Meeting in Amiens
by davros72
Summary: Our heroes meet the famous Nellie Bly.


TITLE: A Meeting in Amiens  
  
AUTHOR: Kevin Schultz  
  
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: davros72@earthlink.net  
  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please  
  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: I'm fine with it, just let me know where it'll be, that's all I ask.  
  
RATING/WARNINGS: G  
  
DISCLAIMER: SAJV and characters copyright Talisman/Promark/etc. No infringement is intended.   
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Extra special thanks to Herbert R. Lottman's "Jules Verne: An Exploratory Biography". I had originally begun this piece before I read this splendid biography. The story was to have taken at roughly the same time period, after most of Jules Verne's works had been published and the characters had become famous. It was to have dealt with how each of the characters handled their new-found fame, with varying degrees of success. However... once I read the Nellie Bly chapter, and read of her encounter with Jules Verne during her own journey around the world, well, lemme tell ya, the girl just took over! :-) As you can see below...   
  
P.S. More historical notes after the story.  
  
********************  
  
"Monsieur Verne!"  
  
A young child's voice crackled through the cold air of the cloudy winter's day. Jules Verne turned to look, finding a small boy racing through the snow towards him as he stood near the Amiens railway station with his friends.  
  
"Well, hello there!" Jules chuckled mirthfully through his thick white beard as the boy collided with him, hugging him tightly around the legs. "Ooof!" he wheezed, whilst his wife laughed quietly behind her gloved hand. "And what is your name, young man?"  
  
"Jean," the boy said shyly as he released the old man and looked up into the wrinkled face. "Papa said you wrote those books that I read."  
  
"Did he, now?" Jules smiled, looking past the boy to see a slightly embarrassed husband and wife approaching to collect their child.  
  
"He did," Jean answered, smiling hugely back. "I loved them, Monsieur Verne, sir! Truly I did! I especially liked the underwater one."  
  
"Oh, that was one of my favorites as well," Jules answered happily. He shook the hands of the boy's parents as they reached him.  
  
"I am sorry for the intrusion, Monsieur Verne," the father began.  
  
"Oh, it is no problem, no problem at all," Jules said dismissively. "I love the fact that children are reading. And if they are reading my tales, then so much the better for me, eh?"  
  
The small family took their leave of Jules and hurried off to the line of carriages awaiting to take the newly arrived visitors into the town.  
  
Jules turned to his companions, taking his wife Honorine's arm as he smiled at them. "Well, now," he smiled smugly. "What do you say to that?"  
  
Phileas Fogg merely folded his arms grumpily, harrumphing. "I say thank goodness he didn't recognize me," he groused.  
  
"Oh, Phileas," Rebecca Fogg teased. "I thought it was rather charming. The effect your works have had on people, especially the young, is quite touching, Jules."  
  
"Yes," Jean Passepartout agreed happily. "I am thinking people are liking your writing more and more as you get old."  
  
"Well..." Jules said. "Thank you. I think." He turned to his wife. "My dear, how much longer must we stand in the cold? My leg, you know..."  
  
Honorine rubbed her husband's arm comfortingly. "I believe I hear the train approaching now," she said.  
  
True enough, a train chuffed into the station in just a few moments. After coming to a complete halt, the train disgorged its passengers, and the porters began unloading baggage.  
  
Jules and his small group began scanning the new arrivals.  
  
"Is that her?" Jules asked, gesturing to a thin, pretty young woman.  
  
"No, dear," Honorine said patiently. "Don't you remember the photographs from the newspapers? I would imagine she looked more like the photographs than that woman. Besides, that woman over there is blonde."  
  
"Oh." Jules' face fell. "Well, my eyes, you see..."  
  
"Yes, dear," said Honorine.  
  
"Is her!" Passepartout piped up suddenly. "Is her!" He was practically jumping up and down, pulling the little group towards the platform.  
  
Phileas squinted towards the approaching woman. "Hmmm," was his terse reply.  
  
"I believe you are correct, Passepartout," Rebecca said as she helped Jules limp his way forward.  
  
The woman approaching them was very pretty, dark-haired, and definitely certain of herself. She turned to her traveling companion, whispered something in his ear, and watched as the man carried their luggage towards the door leading inside the stationhouse. The woman turned back to the approaching group of friends and smiled warmly. "Monsieur Verne?" she asked.  
  
"Miss Bly," Jules said kindly, bowing graciously as best he could, receiving a curtsey in reply. "How kind of you to make this little detour to our fair city."  
  
Nellie Bly blushed. "Not at all, it is I who should thank you for agreeing to see me. And this must be Mrs. Verne?"  
  
Shaking hands, Jules' wife replied, "Honorine, please, Miss Bly."  
  
"Thank you," Nellie said, smiling gratefully. "Nellie, please, my dear."  
  
"May I introduce Mister Phileas Fogg, of London, England," Jules said, gesturing to his tall, distinguished-looking grey-haired friend.  
  
Phileas removed his tall hat, bowing deeply to the young woman. "It is entirely my pleasure," Phileas said politely.  
  
"And Miss Rebecca Fogg," Jules continued, watching as the two adventurous women shook hands, each assessing the other. The smiles on their faces clearly indicated that both found the other worthy.  
  
"And, of course, Jean Passepartout," Jules concluded. Passepartout clicked his heels and bowed courteously, eliciting a giggle from Nellie.  
  
"Oh, my!" Nellie laughed. "I can just see you as Passepartout from the book!"  
  
A slight, uncertain smile crossed Passepartout's face. "But, I *am* Passepartout. Passepartout is me!"  
  
"Never mind," Phileas said quickly, dismissing the awkward moment. "So!" he said, narrowing his eyes at the young woman. "You are here to break my record, are you?" He defiantly folded his arms once more.  
  
"Well, I intend to do my best, Mister Fogg," Nellie answered evenly, sensing the sour mood of the famous traveler.  
  
Jules noticed it as well, having encountered it on far too many occasions, and cleared his throat pointedly. "Well," he said, smiling at each person in turn. "I think it best if we retire to the house."  
  
Together, the group walked towards the line of carriages awaiting them, and they were on their way to the Verne residence on the rue Charles-DuBois.  
  
*****  
  
Jules led his guests into the drawing room of their large, relaxed home. Once everyone was seated, Passepartout hurried off to the kitchen to prepare drinks, while Honorine started a warm, crackling fire in the room's grand fireplace.  
  
"So, Miss Bly," Jules said, smiling graciously at the attractive young woman. "How is it going so far? Your journey?"  
  
Nellie returned the smile enthusiastically. "Very well, I must say. My editors at the New York World newspaper will be most excited. I have had a good start. The Atlantic crossing was very smooth and swift. I should think if things proceed as they have done so far, I believe I shall complete my adventure in, oh, seventy-five days. At a guess."  
  
"Hmmph!" Phileas grunted as he sat pensively in a nearby chair. He glowered at the young woman.  
  
"Hush, Phileas," Rebecca hissed at him from behind a gloved hand.  
  
"It's all right, Rebecca," Nellie said quietly. "I understand your feelings, Mister Fogg," she continued, looking evenly at the frowning man. "You are reluctant to see anyone break your record of eighty days. However, I am hoping to proceed with less distractions and interference than was experienced on your trek."  
  
"Distractions?" Phileas said, cocking an eyebrow warningly. "Interference?"  
  
"Indeed, Mister Fogg. I do not have a police officer pursuing me, for instance."  
  
Phileas bristled, ignoring Rebecca's quiet giggling. "That was a misunderstanding, which I--"  
  
"Fogg," Jules interjected. "We know. Please, Miss Bly, do go on."  
  
Nodding thankfully at Jules, Nellie continued. "I am also following a somewhat different route."  
  
"Really?" Honorine said, interested. "I had not read of the particulars of your itinerary."  
  
"Shall I show you?" Nellie asked cheerfully, her excitement for her latest passion clearly in evidence.  
  
"I should think that would be excellent," Rebecca said, standing up. "Jules, you have some maps around here somewhere, don't you?"  
  
Jules struggled to his feet, assisted by Honorine. "Yes, I do. Upstairs in my library. It is this way." He led the group, with a very reluctant Phileas in tow, up the stairs.  
  
"In here," Jules said, gesturing inside a room at the top of the steps, "is my working room. It is a bit cramped. But I find it works best to stimulate my mind."  
  
Nellie stepped into the small, neat room. It contained one desk underneath a lone window, through which she could see parts of the city of Amiens. Most prominent was a cathedral spire, along with a small park below the window leading to a railway tunnel. She had noted earlier the proximity of the Verne residence to the railway. Examining the rest of the room, she noted one chair behind the desk, and a low couch along the wall. And there was not a scrap of litter anywhere to be found. Turning her attention to the desk, she found a single manuscript lying open. "May I?" she asked Jules, who hovered outside the small room with the rest of the group. He nodded, and so she peered closely at the pages. She refrained from reading the entire text of the pages, instead noting the working mind of Jules Verne. She noted that the writing was in pencil, and while at certain points words and phrases were crossed out, she found no added words. It seemed to her that Jules improve!  
  
d his work whilst writing by removing unnecessary, superfluous items, not by embellishing or adding. Interesting, she thought to herself.  
  
"You said there were maps?" Nellie said, looking up from the manuscript, smiling at her host.  
  
"Indeed," Jules replied. "This way." He led the group to the library down the hall.  
  
The library was almost the absolute opposite of the small, spartan working room. It was enormous, most likely the largest room of the upper floor, if not the entire house. The walls were lined with bookcases, each case filled to overflowing with books. She gazed at the spines of the collection, noting many French authors, along with several English and American works. Most notably, she found numerous titles by Edgar Allan Poe. A large table in the center of the library was covered with opened books, manuscripts, and various parchments. A large globe sat happily in one corner.  
  
Jules limped over to the table, rummaging through the papers and books. "Somewhere, I think..." he muttered. A number of pages fell to the floor, which he ignored, focusing instead on his quest. "A-ha!" he finally exclaimed. He extracted a folded paper from underneath several heavy volumes and opened it. Smoothing it out on top of the pile, he beckoned his friends over.  
  
Nellie looked at the paper. "It's a map of the world!" she said. "And look! You've even marked out Mister Fogg's journey!" She pointed down at the map, tracing her fingers along the route.  
  
"And now I shall add yours," Jules said proudly, producing a pencil from one of his pockets. "Now, let's see... You started in New York, yes? Yes. Then on to England." He scratched at the map with the pencil, tracing out Nellie's route. "Then on to Amiens." He looked up at her. "And then?"  
  
Nellie described her forthcoming journey as Jules continued to mark the map. "Well, from here I am on to Calais. Then I plan to head to Brindisi in Italy. From there it shall be Port Said, Ismailia, Suez, Aden, then on to Colombo, Penang, Singapore, Honk Kong, Yokohama. Across the Pacific to America, namely San Francisco, and finally to my starting point, New York."  
  
Jules finished penciling Nellie's route, then held up the map happily to show the rest of his friends.  
  
"I say," Rebecca said, her eyebrows lifting. "In seventy-five days, you say? That is quite bold of you."  
  
"Like I said, I intend to do everything I can to speed my journey along."  
  
Frowning, Phileas muttered, "Including chatting the afternoon away in Amiens?"  
  
"I have enough time, Mister Fogg, as long as I make my connecting train to Calais later today. I would have had to wait at the station anyway."  
  
"Hmmm," Phileas replied sourly.  
  
"I'll wager you finish in... seventy-seven days," Rebecca said, smiling as she surreptitiously kicked Phileas in the shin.  
  
"If you do it in seventy-nine days," Jules added, "I shall applaud you with both hands."  
  
Nellie blushed, bowing slightly. "Thank you both, for at least conceding that I may beat eighty days."  
  
Phileas looked silently at the map for a moment. "Miss Bly, pardon me for asking, but why have you not placed Bombay on your itinerary, as it was one of the major destinations of my own journey?"  
  
Nellie smiled sweetly at Phileas. "Because, Mister Fogg, I am more anxious to save time than a young widow."  
  
There was an immediate awkward silence, wherein Jules, Honorine, and Rebecca attempted to stifle their giggles. A vicious glance from Phileas silenced them.  
  
Honorine looked around the room. "I think I shall see what is taking Passepartout so long with those drinks." She swept gracefully out of the room.  
  
*****  
  
In the kitchens, Honorine discovered Passepartout, standing silently over a tray of wineglasses. She paused in the doorway before venturing inside.  
  
"Passepartout?" she asked gently.  
  
Passepartout started and spun around. He quickly shifted from a shock to a smile as he saw it was Honorine standing before him. "Oh! I am begging pardon! You are all thirsting! I am apologies!" Passepartout began to hurry forward with his tray, but was stopped by a gentle touch on his shoulder from Honorine.  
  
"Passepartout," Honorine said quietly. "What is it?"  
  
Passepartout sighed heavily. "I am fearful of Mister Fogg," he said. "I am thinking very nicely of Miss Bly, and I am afraid he will not like that. Every day I read of her in newspaper, excited for her journey. Wishing that I was riding with her on her adventure. And I am knowing that Mister Fogg too old to do such adventures again. I am afraid he hate me because I want to travel again." His shoulders slumped defeatedly.  
  
"Oh, Passepartout," Honorine said gently. "I understand. Trust me, Phileas knows that his time has past. None of us are as young as we once were. Galloping around the world is a game for the young, Passepartout. And we are no longer young. That is why Phileas is in such a black mood. He wishes he could travel carefree again, as Miss Bly is doing, but he knows he must not. Not anymore."  
  
Passepartout blinked as he looked at Honorine. "So, you are saying is okay? Mister Fogg not be upset at me?"  
  
Chuckling, Honorine answered, "Passepartout, he's too busy being jealous of Miss Bly to be concerned about it, my dear."  
  
Slowly slipping a smile onto his face, Passepartout sighed happily. "I am glad then. This mean I can go serve drinks now."  
  
"Indeed." Taking his arm, Honorine led Passepartout out of the kitchens.  
  
*****  
  
The group had just reached the bottom of the stairs and had returned to the drawing room as the drinks arrived. Wine was passed around.  
  
"I am afraid I must be off after this, gentlemen, ladies," Nellie said somewhat sadly.  
  
"A toast, then," Jules said, raising his glass. "Good luck, Nellie Bly." He and Nellie clinked wineglasses. Nellie then touched wineglasses with the rest of the group.  
  
Then, it was time to go. They loaded up the carriages once more, and headed back to the station. Nellie rode in Jules and Honorine's carriage.  
  
"How are you dealing with the fame your writings have brought you, Mister Verne?" Nellie asked during the brief ride.  
  
"Oh, I do rather well," Jules answered. "I think it is Phileas who has had the most difficult time dealing with it of all of us."  
  
"Indeed?"  
  
"Yes," Jules went on. "He continues to get letters from his adoring public every day. And there seems to be a cult developing based on his..." Jules chuckled at this point. "His chest hair."  
  
"Shocking!" Nellie giggled.  
  
"I swear to you, it is true. One of his most ardent fans, a young lady named Lorelai, I believe, writes to him constantly."  
  
"Oh, my!"   
  
"And Passepartout has developed his own following, as well. A young woman named Therese seems to idolize the man. The only one of us who has seemingly escaped the pressures of fame is Rebecca, mainly because I declined from adding her into my novels."  
  
"Oh, I am certain she has her share of devoted admirers as well," Nellie said, winking.  
  
Jules smiled back. "Most likely."  
  
The carriages pulled up at the railway station, and the group alighted from their transport. The train to Calais was already boarding.  
  
Nellie turned to look at her new friends. She hugged Honorine, kissing her lightly on the cheeks. She did the same with Rebecca. Moving on to Passepartout, she smiled as she shook his hand. Then, impulsively, she kissed his cheeks as well. The look on his face as she pulled away from him made her giggle deviously.  
  
Turning to Phileas, Nellie smiled kindly. She held out her hand to shake his, but he surprised her by bowing deeply to her.  
  
"I wish you the speediest of journeys, Miss Nellie Bly," Phileas said, taking her extended hand and kissing the back of her glove. Looking in his eyes, Nellie could tell that he meant it.  
  
"Thank you, Mister Fogg," she said, blushing slightly.  
  
And finally, she reached Jules Verne. He held out his hand to her, but instead, she enveloped him in a sudden impulsive hug. "Thank you for inspiring me," she said to him. "For inspiring me and many others that will follow."  
  
Jules shyly smiled and shrugged, looking nervously at his wife, who chuckled and shook her head. "Take care of yourself, Miss Bly," he said.  
  
Nellie turned to go, catching up with her companion and her luggage. As she stepped onto the train, she paused, and turned back to the little group standing nearby. She waved, giving them all a wide grin, and then she was aboard.  
  
The friends watched as the train pulled out from the station and headed down the tracks. They looked, but they did not see Nellie in any of the windows.  
  
"Most likely she had a compartment on the other side," Jules explained matter-of-factly.  
  
"Well, thank God she is gone," Phileas grumbled.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Phileas," Rebecca teased. "You liked her."  
  
"What?" Phileas looked at his cousin, aghast. "What on earth gave you that ridiculous idea?"  
  
"I saw the look on your face when she got on the train," Rebecca said, smiling sweetly.  
  
"It's true," Jules chimed in. "We all saw it."  
  
Passepartout nodded.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Phileas frowned. "Can we just go back now?"  
  
As they approached their carriages, Phileas added. "At least you didn't tell her about our fanatical followers."  
  
Jules halted, glancing guiltily at his wife.  
  
"What?" Phileas said, suspicious. "Oh, good God, don't tell me..."  
  
"Forget it, Phileas," Honorine said as she stepped into her carriage. "She seemed to find the whole idea charming."  
  
"Hmmmm," Phileas groused as he entered his own transport.  
  
As the carriages headed away from the railway station, happy laughter echoed through the crisp evening air.  
  
THE END  
  
***************  
  
AFTERWORD: Nellie Bly (real name Elizabeth Cochrane) did indeed encounter Jules Verne. However, as far as I know, Phileas, Rebecca and Passepartout were not at that meeting. I've taken the liberty of inserting them into this little story.   
  
Nellie Bly was indeed traveling around the world in an attempt to beat Phileas' (fictional) record, as an assignment for her newspaper, the New York World.  
  
The events of the real meeting take place pretty much as I've described them here, along with several actual dialogue bits, including the wonderful tease about saving time instead of saving a widow, which seemed perfect for use as a put-down of Phileas. I also ditched the interpreter from the French newspaper who was present for the meeting, because that would've been needlessly tedious to have Jules speak French, have it translated to English, have Nellie's reply in English translated back into French, etc. See? It's even tedious as I type the explanation here.  
  
By the way, in case anyone was curious... Nellie Bly finished her journey in 72 days, 6 hours, and 11 minutes. You go, girl! 


End file.
